What Lies Ahead

Six

Suddenly, the pain was gone. Voldemort pulled him back into a sitting position, the cruel smile still stretched across his face.

"Let us try that again. How old are you?"

" Tw…twelve, " Harry stammered as he tried to regain control of his shaking limbs.

"Twelve?" Voldemort's eyebrows raised in surprise. "My, my. I can not say you are the youngest I have used the Cruciatus curse on but you are perhaps the most enjoyable. See that wasn't so difficult. You will learn it is easier just to answer the first time."

Harry's stomach turned at the image. He closed his eyes in an attempt to slow his ragged breathing, but there was nothing for it. He knew that death was now inevitable but how much pain would he be forced to endure before then? Whatever was to come, he made himself one promise; he wouldn't beg. He wouldn't sit there and play along to Voldemort's sick games.

Voldemort chuckled and gave Harry's cheek a rough pat before standing up. He ran a hand through his hair again as he paced across the dirty hardwood floor. "So, what do I do with you now, " he pondered out loud.

"The ministry will …" Harry began, his voice stronger than he felt. Rising slowly, he used the wall for support against his quivering legs.

"The ministry will what?" Voldemort asked, spinning on his heel to face Harry. "Use the trace to find you? Oh, my dear boy, that is the first thing I took care of."

Harry felt his hope plummet. "But how…"

"Let me enlighten you a little. I have survived these eleven long years by possessing whatever my limited amount of strength would allow me too. It mostly consisted of rats and other small creatures before Quirell came along. I was not able to take full control of him even with his consent. But now, " he paused here, examining his hands once more. "Now, Tom was different. He was apart of my very soul. Think of it as a rebirth more than a possession. I know everything you have been through to get here, including the little stunt you pulled back at the muggle inn."

Heat flushed Harry's cheeks but he didn't dare drop his gaze; he would not be made to feel ashamed. In the flickering light, he could see Voldemort was still eyeing him thoughtfully, waiting for any sign of emotions. When none surfaced, he turned away to face the fire, hands clasped behind his back.

Harry's eyes shot to the now vacant door before returning to Voldemort's back. If he could just make it to the woods beyond the house, he stood a better chance of escaping this. Running blindly in the dark was better than sitting there waiting for Voldemort to grow tired of playing with him. He hesitantly took one step in the direction of the door, his heart hammering painfully against the ribs that encaged it.

"We have a lot in common, Harry. Both orphaned with no place to call home except for Hogwarts,  The first parseltongue to come to Hogwarts since I was there..."

Poised on the balls of his trainers, Harry seized his opportunity. With reflexes of a Gryffindor seeker, he took a deep breath and sprinted for the opening. He was only feet from freedom when the invisible ropes wrapped around his ankles, sending him sprawling to the floor. Dozens of splinters embedded into his palms as his hands stretched out to stop his descent, his glasses skidding across the room.

Voldemort stepped past him and, collecting the glasses, turned to Harry with raised eyebrows. He reached down and pulled Harry to his knees by the front of his shirt before placing the glasses roughly on the bridge of his nose.

"Let me ask you a question, Potter. If you, by some miracle, made it back to the castle, how are you going to explain what happened," Voldemort asked casually. When he saw the look of confusion on Harry's face, he continued. "Oh come now, boy. You were the last person to see Miss Weasley alive and you were already suspected by many to be the one opening the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry gaped at him and then shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore knows it wasn't me," he said, not only answering Voldemort's question but also to reassure himself. Now that he thought about it, it didn't look good for him.

A high pitched laughed rolled from Voldemort, shaking Harry's confidence. "Yes, because that proved well for young Rubeus Hagrid. It surprises me that until the very end you put your trust in the man that left you on your Aunt and Uncle's doorstep without a single explanation."

A ripple of doubt prickled Harry's brain and he couldn't keep his eyes from dropping. It was true, Professor Dumbledore had not left him in the best of situations, and even after the events last year, he hadn't offered much of an explanation for what had happened in Harry's life. However, none of that mattered now.

"Better than blindly following someone like you" Harry snapped. He looked up in time to see Voldemort's smile sour.

"Just like a true Gryffindor; loyal to the end."

Harry wouldn't allow himself to look away, to show fear even as the wand was pointed at his face. An eternity seemed to pass as Voldemort remained stoic, apparently waiting for just the right moment. In that time, Harry let his mind wander to the unknown. Would it hurt? What was waiting for him? Would he finally be able to see his parents again?

"And yet," Voldemort said with a sigh, breaking the tension in the room. "I think I can still find use for you."

As the wand lowered, Harry went through a rapid succession of emotions; shock, relief, disappointment, fear. The mixture of them all made his head swim. What could Voldemort possibly need him alive for?

Rousing him from his stupor, Voldemort pulled him roughly to his feet, long fingers digging painfully into his bicep. "First, I need to pay an old friend a visit," he said coolly. With that, he turned on the spot, dragging Harry along with him.